


Easy

by Ser_Renity



Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff, M/M, Trans Male Character, mention of transphobia, yup
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-16
Updated: 2016-07-16
Packaged: 2018-07-24 08:22:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7501032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ser_Renity/pseuds/Ser_Renity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Can I get you anything?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Easy

**Author's Note:**

> based on this great prompt left on my tumblr:  
> "CIVILIAN AU WITH FIRST YEAR UNI STUDENT GRIMM GETTING IN A FIGHT AND TRYING TO CHILL IN A BAR SIMPLY BC IT'S SAFE AND ASKIN FINDS HIM AND TREATS HIM A DRINK BC POOR KID (WHO'S ONLY A YEAR YOUNGER THAN HIM BUT) AND THEY GET TO KNOW EACH OTHER AND THIS IS WHAT U DID TO ME"
> 
> always happy to oblige when it comes to one of my favourite ships!

* * *

 

 

“Can I get you anything?”

  
It was not the most original of lines to use but it was the only thing that came to Askin’s mind as he saw the miserable man that currently occupied the seat closest to the rear window.

  
See, Askin had never been one for tradition and sticking to strange societal conventions but if he had anything close to routine, something he cherished, it was his spot in this bar. The girl behind the counter had given him a knowing look as he sauntered in- Bambietta Basterbine was an old friend who knew exactly what kind of day it had been if he showed up at this hour.

  
What Askin did not expect was the blue-haired man seemingly sleeping with his head on the counter, his face buried in the crook of his elbow where he crossed his arms. He was wearing a jacket with the sleeves pushed up so the tattoos on his skin were exposed; bright flower prints up to the wrist.

  
Askin turned to meet Bambietta’s eyes.

  
“Is he okay?” he mouthed at her, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the other patron.

  
Bambietta shrugged, her large earrings clinking together. Her girlfriend, Candice, used to joke she got so many piercings to make up for being relatively short. It took them a while to speak to each other again, both having an explosive temper.

  
Askin remembered having to duck to avoid a few pieces of the inventory thrown across the room.

  
Right now he wished for some of that enthusiasm because Bambietta seemed perfectly content leaving the blue-haired man to his devices. It wasn’t like that was a horrible thing to do, many students just came around these parts to drink away the memory of the latest exam.

  
Askin didn’t consider himself very charitable but he felt bad for this guy; because if his eyes didn’t deceive him there were bruises on his face, a few scrapes on the bits of skin that were not tattooed.

  
So what he said was “can I get you anything” as he sat down on the seat right next to the tired stranger.

  
“Do I look like I wanna hook up right now?”

  
It was a gravelly growl of a sentence, muttered just loud enough to be audible. Not angry, though; if anything it sounded exasperated.

  
Askin smiled with no one there to see it.

  
“I’m not sure,” he said, “It’s rather difficult to tell like this. What I can see, however, is that you look like you could use a drink.”

  
The man huffed out a laugh and lifted his head by a fraction to check out who he was dealing with.

  
Not only did he have blue hair but also blue eyes with thick turquoise lines under them. They didn’t look like they were temporary- more tattoos, maybe?

  
There were the cuts, though, the split lip and discoloration around his eyes and temple.

  
Askin noted that he was pretty, too, with sharp features and long eyelashes. A welcome surprise, he had to admit, especially after a day that not only an almost lethal dose of coffee could have fixed.

  
“Well, if you’re offering,” the man mumbled and frowned, “Who’re you, anyway?”

  
“Askin Nakk Le Vaar,” Askin said, inclining his head in a mock-bow, “23 years old, second-year med student and also occasionally someone who buys drinks for people.”

  
“What if I don’t want one?”

  
“Well, you can always have some peanuts instead,” Askin answered, “Cashews, too, probably. Honestly, I just feel you had a shit day and so did I. Call it solidarity.”

  
“What gave me away?” the man asked and the sarcasm was tangible, “The attitude or the million injuries?”

  
“Oh no, it was the vibes of sadness. All spiritual and sorrowful.”

  
This time the man laughed. It was a strange kind of laughter, high-pitched and manic and he winced immediately as it moved his injured lips.

  
“Hi,” he said then and grinned, “’m Grimmjow, 22, first year maths. Also, I got punched in the face.”

  
Askin liked the way he spoke, the gruff tone and unusually sharp canines. Bambietta shot him a pointed look over the edge of a glass she was polishing; she was a good friend but she knew Askin’s reputation better than anyone, his habit of sleeping around.

  
“I’m waiting for the ‘you should have seen the other guy’.”

  
“Nah,” Grimmjow said and licked his dry lips, wincing again, “Got ambushed. ‘m hiding out here for a bit.”

  
“Noted. I won’t alert the media then,” Askin mock-whispered, “So, anything you want?”

 

* * *

 

 

Askin wasn’t a lightweight but there came a time when a person had to decide for themself that this was enough, it would be a terrible idea to get even more drunk.

  
“I think my soul left my body three glasses ago,” he muttered with his head on the counter, blinking slowly at the blue specter to his left.

  
Grimmjow was, in fact, a lightweight. He seemed to know his limits but decided to screw them. Even if he had way less than Askin himself he was definitely beyond tipsy.

  
“Y’know,” Grimmjow mumbled, putting his head down on the counter as well, trailing small circles on his thigh with his fingertips, “I just wanted to be safe somewhere because those bastards might come back.”

  
“Why were they after you anyway?”

  
Grimmjow blew air out of his nose and shrugged. His hair hung into his face now, no matter how often he tried to push it away. The blue strands looked soft like this.

  
“They were pretty fucking sure I wasn’t gonna mind if they insulted me,” he sneered, “So I kicked their asses.”

  
“That’s what you call an ambush?”

  
“Well, yeah. Kinda. They had it coming.”

  
Askin smiled into the sleeve of his striped coat.

  
“I’m sure they did,” he replied and blinked to clear his woozy mind, “Why’d they insult you?”

  
Grimmjow shifted on his seat. He tightened his grip on the counter’s edge, his knuckles whitening.

  
“It’s a really fucking stupid idea to tell you but I’m drunk so-” he began and frowned, “Who even cares.”

  
“You don’t have to.”

  
Grimmjow looked him in the eyes, stared for a moment as if trying to find something, some sort of sign. Then he shrugged again.

  
“I’m trans,” he said, “They found out. Some people are shit, ‘s all.”

  
Askin hesitated just briefly. He hoped his surprise would not be interpreted as aversion.

  
“Very true. Did you find out who they were?” he asked, “You could report them. Or ask Bambi over there to beat them up for you because I am sure that would make her very happy.”

  
The shouted reply definitely disagreed, but Askin was watching the relief on Grimmjow’s face. Perhaps it was the buzz of alcohol but he felt warm and fuzzy at the sight, a strange giddiness in his head.

  
They were close like this, sprawled out on top of a counter with their hands almost touching. It was sweet, in a way, even if they were both a little too drunk to fully process it now.

  
“So why’re you having a shit day?” Grimmjow asked and blinked like a tired cat, “Did someone fuck you over, too?”

  
Askin laughed.

  
“Nothing that dramatic,” he said, “I dropped my flash drive in the, uh, drain thing on the way to campus. It had a very important paper on it. Now I am ignoring the fact that ever happened until reality catches up with me.”

  
Grimmjow watched him for a moment before he grinned, exposing his teeth.

  
“You’re funny,” he stated, “If you wanna go back to the flirting I’m cool with that. I’m really shit at it, though, so don’t expect anything hardcore smooth.”

  
He leaned to the side a little and promptly swayed and dropped.

  
Askin caught him by the shoulder. It was difficult to steady someone if your head was spinning but they managed somehow, a tangle of limbs pressed against the counter.

  
“Whoops,” Grimmjow said and seemed completely unapologetic, “So clumsy. Terrible.”

  
He leaned into the half-hug they had fallen into and yawned. Askin struggled to keep them upright but he didn’t mind much; he was laughing silently.

  
“I think ‘m gonna leave though,” Grimmjow said, “Don’t wanna throw up on your shoes, they look shiny.”

  
“Thanks.”

  
“Don’t mention it.”

  
What an absurdity. The best thing to happen.

  
Askin agreed with him, though; it was about time to leave. Any longer and he would fall asleep in his seat and that was something he didn’t want Bambietta to have blackmail material of.

  
“I’ll walk you home, then,” he offered, “If that’s okay. It will be more like staggering though.”

  
“Do it. Walking sounds like an awesome idea right now.”

  
Grimmjow snickered and slumped a little more, yawning loudly.

  
“You guys doing okay?” Bambietta shouted at them from the back, “Should I call someone to pick you up?”

  
“If I don’t text you in twenty minutes please come looking for us,” Askin yelled back, “Be right back, dying in a ditch!”

 

* * *

 

 

They made it outside with little difficulty but it became exponentially harder to navigate as soon as there were no more walls to steady themselves. Not that Grimmjow tried very hard, either; he seemed perfectly content being half-carried half-dragged on his way, humming in the back of his throat.

  
Askin felt the vibration near his neck and it was a good feeling, a calming one.

  
“Well you’re certainly happy,” he said and cleared his throat in an effort to make his tongue feel less heavy, “That’s good. That was the whole point, improving your mood.”

  
“I’m all improved now for sure,” Grimmjow answered and laughed so loud it echoed off the alley walls, “Could still get better though.”

  
Outside the air was warm and fresh and Askin knew that it wasn’t lack of oxygen that had his head spinning. He remembered thinking it would be a bad idea to ignore the deadline, now that thought seemed far away. Worrying could wait.

  
“You’re a step ahead of me here,” he said. His arm was around Grimmjow’s waist, the entire side of their bodies pressed against each other.

  
“What’s that mean? You’re not interested?”

  
“You’re drunk. I’m drunk.”

  
“Good observation,” Grimmjow muttered, “It’s not like ‘m saying we should bang right now. I’m not into that anyway.”

  
He pushed Askin away from him gently, led him backwards until he staggered into a wall. Around them the lanterns still burned as if this was a cheesy romantic comedy.

  
“Then what are you saying, hm?” Askin asked and batted his eyelashes, “I’m open for suggestions.”

 

  
Grimmjow grinned at him and squeezed down on his shoulders. The way he bit his marred bottom lip seemed oddly coy for someone offering this so bluntly.

  
Then Grimmjow leaned in and kissed him, carefully, a test.

  
“Great suggestion,” Askin said as they parted, “I’m game.”

  
It was not the most optimal location to make out but they were both too drunk to care an awful lot. Grimmjow liked having his hair stroked and petted while he focused on the kissing; he hummed and gasped, was incredibly vocal.

  
“You taste like that shitty cocktail you had,” he mumbled between kisses, licking his reddened lips, “Who even likes grapefruit?”

  
Askin nipped the side of his mouth.

  
“I do,” he said, “And you’re bleeding, you lunatic.”

  
It didn’t matter at all to either of them because this felt great and the night was warm; there were a million stars in the sky and making out under them seemed like the best plan ever.

  
Grimmjow let himself be lifted up, wrapped his long legs around Askin’s waist. Despite his bruises he was insatiable, kissed like he was starving, inexperienced but enthusiastic. It was cute.

  
“You’re so good at this,” he complained, “That’s fucking unfair, man.”

  
“I could be terribly cheesy and ask you to practice with me.”

  
“Cool. Got yourself a deal.”

  
Askin smirked as they kept going, tightening his grip on Grimmjow’s strong thighs. Wearing shorts made it easy to press fingertips into the soft skin, hold him up as high as he needed to be.

  
So they made out against the wall of a building, wrapped up in each other and still horribly, irrevocably drunk as hell. It was good, it was great, they didn’t want to stop at all.

  
Of course they had to at some point, though.

  
It was a damn shame, really.

 

* * *

 

 

A lot of jokes had been made about hangovers but Askin was not laughing as he woke up. There was that small period of time where he had no idea where he was, followed by the splitting headache and the regret.

  
Pretty standard procedure as far as hangovers went; but despite his tongue feeling like it had grown fur there was also the solid weight of another body on top of him.

  
Askin did not have to think long before he remembered Grimmjow and their strange meeting the night before. What he had not expected was to wake up to find them cuddling in his room.

  
He checked quickly- it was his room in the dorm alright, heaps of paper stacked in every corner, a few empty coffee cups sitting on the desk.

  
Grimmjow made strange little purring noises in his sleep and didn’t seem to consider waking up at all. He looked serene like this, his head on the pillow, his left arm and leg thrown over Askin’s body.

  
He was also incredibly warm, close to burning up. In due time all those nice things would be replaced by the feeling of absolute and utter regret.

  
Askin reached to the side and fished blindly for his phone. After a failed attempt that almost knocked over his lamp he grabbed hold of it, swiped the screen, surveyed the damage.

  
“Aaaaaaaaaaah” his latest text to Bambietta read, followed by “ths translates to im good”. She hadn’t answered but he could feel the silence judging him.

  
Askin sighed and put his phone back down, shifted a little.

  
“Go the hell back to sleep,” Grimmjow muttered, “We can make out when my head’s not exploding.”

  
This was still good, no regret or disappointment. It was easy to fall asleep again.

 

* * *

 


End file.
